Paper Saucer
by Fletset
Summary: I, Kyle Broflovski, hereby declare that if three years from today I am still girlfriendless and Stan is still boyfriendless, we will start dating one another!" It might as well be mentioned that Kyle was drunk at the time. StanKyle.
1. The Saucer

**Disclaimer:**I don't own South Park, nor the various drinks that are mentioned in the story. I write this story just for fun.

**Author's Note I: **So, after a long break, here I am again. Man, I read so much StanKyle for the past week… mostly re-read things. I really wanted to write something new, and the idea for this came from a similar conversation I had with a gay friend a few years back. A good friend of mine also said he suggested it to some girl he knows…

I really hope this will be updated, but with my inability to finish chaptered works and the god damned strike at the universities that's supposed to end soon (then I'll have to study), I kind of doubt that…

**Author's Note II: **I apologize ahead for spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native tongue. Is there even such a thing as paper saucer? I dunno how to call it…

**Author's Note III: **Weihenstephan rulez.

**Paper Saucer**

Chapter One: The Saucer

"You know", Kyle told him one night when they sat at a local bar, his speech slightly slurred, and threw one arm across Stan's shoulders, causing a reddish tint to appear on the other male's cheeks. "Since the both of us are failures when it comes to have a steady relationship, I have a suggestion." He took a long gulp from his second glass of Weihenstephan, then burped. Stan frowned. "I say, that if three years from today we're _still_ fuckin' single, we start to date each other."

Stan nearly choked on his drink, and forced it down, coughing as it slid down his throat. "What!" he exclaimed, whipping his head around quickly to gape at his best friend.

Surprisingly enough, Kyle was staring back at him, just the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm serious, Stan," he said, taking another long gulp from his beer. "We always break up with our girlfriends – boyfriends, in your case-" Stan frowned again, "because they get jealous of the relationship we have with each other. And really, we never argue because we'd rather spend time with each other than with them."

Stan sighed. "Stop joking around, Kyle," he said, prying the Jew's hands off of his shoulders, the reddish tint from earlier returning to adorn his face. Kyle stared innocently at him. Stan grumbled. "Come on, I think you had enough to drink. Finish that glass and we'll go back," he said, fingering his car-keys (the reason he didn't find Kyle's idea funny, as he head to settle for a coke) through the pocket of his jeans.

Kyle pouted. "Oh, come on dude, don't be a party pooper! There-" he flipped the paper saucer that laid under his glass and searched his pocket for a pen, missing it a few times and nearly falling off the chair (luckily, Stan was there to catch him). When his searches turned up in vain, he requested a pen from the bartender, who immediately complied. "Now," Kyle said, pressing the top of the pen so he'd be able to write. He scribbled something on the saucer, and threw the pen back at the counter-top when he finished.

"I, Kyle Broflovski," he started, snickering. "Hereby declare that if by the fourth of January, two thousand and twenty, I am still girlfriendless and Stan is still boyfriendless," there he stopped to snicker again. "We will start dating one another!" then he burst out laughing, much to Stan's dismay (he really didn't find the situation that funny). He grabbed the pen once again and signed his name at the bottom of the saucer, and passed it to Stan to do the same. Stan eyed him wearily, but signed his name, nonetheless, and when he was about to pass the saucer back to Kyle, Kyle pushed his hand back. "You keep it," he said, finished his beer with one last, long gulp and sighed contently. Stan was positive he would have been better off _without_ the two shots of Jäger he had in between.

He sighed heavily, pocketed the saucer and helped Kyle up. The redhead leaned on him, his head rolling on his broad shoulder. "You know," he whispered in his ear, his eyes half shut and his breathing reeking of alcohol, "I really hope we'd stay single for three years." Stan nearly dropped Kyle at that, but regained his composure quickly enough to shove Kyle in the front seat of his car. By the time he started the engine, Kyle had already passed out completely.

* * *

And now, almost three years later, Stanley Marsh sat at his kitchen table and rubbed his temples, staring tiredly at a somewhat crumpled paper saucer. In all honesty, when Kyle gave it to him that night at the bar, he meant to throw it away and forget about it. But, as fate would have it, he forgot it in his jeans back-pocket (which had rarely met the washing machine), and found it anew about two months later. Then, since he was in quite a hurry (to a date!), he put it in his lower drawer and resolved to throw it away the following day. Since that date was a complete failure, when he returned home his mind was occupied with thoughts of misery and loneliness and he forgot about that saucer yet _again_. The second time he uncovered it was when he cleared his drawers in search for a list of books related to his midterm paper at his third year of college. He stared at it then, remembering Kyle's words from two years ago, and wondered whether Kyle remembered them himself. In contrary to the previous times, Stan decided to keep it. 

Stan sighed heavily to himself and took a sip from his coffee. Only one more month until the agreed day…

In all honesty, he didn't have any problems with the agreement, being gay and all. He didn't know about Kyle, though. He was right when he said that all their breakups were because the people they were dating felt like they were ditching them (which was true). In fact, Stan and Kyle had decided long ago, when they graduated from high school, that they will marry the person who will make them ditch each other, like normal people do when they enter a steady relationship.

Stan knew that what he felt for Kyle wasn't what Kyle felt for him. He held to those feelings since he admitted his orientation to himself (when he thought about it, the attraction to Kyle came _before_ the admittance…). He never talked to Kyle about them, primarily because Kyle was straight, and secondly, to him Kyle was someone to adore from afar, not someone to start a relationship with. He was almost too perfect, in Stan's opinion. So smart and handsome and sophisticated and just so damn _special_. Kyle was the first love of his life, a love that could not be tainted with sleazy thoughts, like a precious flower that must not be trampled. His love for Kyle was too pure to exist outside of his mind and heart, a love that he used to compare his feelings for other men to.

Just like _their _relationship that they compared to _other_ relationships.

He wanted to think that Kyle was too damn drunk back then to remember, but he remembered what he whispered in his ear just minutes before he passed out, and added the (miserable) fact that Kyle, in all three years of college, had gone only to _two_ (failed) dates, and it caused him to think that perhaps, he did remember. And really, college was _the_ place to get a date, Stan himself had dated his fair share, but now he had no idea how Kyle was going to get a girl (at his work? Come on, he'd rather shoot himself than marry the forty-years-old secretary…)

If Kyle _did, _in fact, remember his words from back then… well… Stan didn't know what he'd do. Of course, to be with Kyle was something that he had to admit he was not completely _against_, but it was a very thin line between friendship and a romantic relationship, a line he wasn't sure he, or rather they, would be able to cross.

He sighed heavily to himself again, rubbing his temple harder. Kyle wouldn't remember, he was too drunk back then (and Stan wasn't sure if he should feel disappointed or not), so drunk, actually, that he couldn't even recall _what_ exactly he had to drink that made him so. Stan could show it to him, of course. His signature was right there, written in black ink right next to his. That was a proof enough to his actions that night. Question was, did _he want_ Kyle to remember? That was the question he agonized on for the past month. Why, oh why did he have to keep that stupid saucer? Kyle wouldn't remember anyway, and it will ruin the friendship they have if Kyle realized that Stan held some sort of feelings towards him (after all, he kept the damned thing).

How should he approach him on the subject, anyway, regardless of his indecisiveness on the matter? "Kyle, dude, remember that night when you got drunk and harassed old ladies at the bar? Yeah, that… remember what you said? The agreement? Here, I'll show you… Kyle, why are you crying?"

No, that wasn't a good idea…

"Say, Kyle, what would you say if I offered we… move in together? No, not like that! I mean… yeah, maybe, but it was _your_ idea! Here, I'll show you… Kyle, why are you crying?"

No, that was a bad idea, as well…

"Say, Kyle, what do you think of agreements signed on paper saucers…?"

His cell phone's ringing cut his train of thought, and he smirked as his best friend's name glared back at him from the display screen. Speaking of the devil… "Hey dude," he said, smiling albeit his position.

"Stan!" he could hear the smile in the Jew's voice. "Guess what!"

"Afros are in again?" he could tell he caused Kyle to frown at that.

"No," he grumbled, "better than that!" the smile returned to his voice. "I have a date tonight!"

Stan wasn't entirely sure what caused him to drop the phone like that.

_To Be Continued…?_

Please review:D


	2. The Fight

**Disclaimer: **South Park isn't mine, I write this story just for fun.

**Author's Note I: **Whoa, a quick update! But don't get used to it. Thank you, my reviewers! Feel welcomed to review this, as well!

**Author's Note III: **Not much humor in this chapter… I hope it won't turn into a drama! I tend to write those too much…

**Author's Note II: **Sorry for spelling/grammar mistakes. English is not my native tongue.

**Paper Saucer**

Chapter Two: The Fight

Stan blinked, mouth slightly agape and fingers still in the position they would have been in were they still holding his cell phone.

"Stan? Stan!" Kyle's voice woke him up from his daze and he shook his head quickly, grabbing the phone and holding it next to his ear again.

"S-sorry," he mumbled. "W-what was it that you were saying again?" he asked, still slightly confused.

"Dude, are you okay?" the redhead questioned instead of replying, worry in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm fine!" Simply… fucking… great. "What did you say again?"

Kyle was silent for a few seconds before he answered. "I said I have a date tonight." Stan's eyebrow twitched at that, but he was glad to hear that the worry from earlier disappeared from his voice.

"Oh?" he managed, trying to force himself out of his momentarily shock. "Who's the lucky girl?" He sure hoped his interest sounded genuine…

It was. Partly.

"Her name's Sarah," Kyle said, and Stan's eyebrow twitched again at the sound of his voice. He said it like she was the prom queen and he finally got a date with her after a decade of fantasizing about her.

"Oh? Where have you met?" Stan asked, running his fingers absentmindedly on the paper saucer he was staring so intently at earlier.

"Remember that Jewish community thing my mom forced me to take part in about two weeks ago?" Stan nodded, forgetting that Kyle was unable to see it. The one that Kyle was unable to bring himself to stop whining about? Yeah, he remembered… "Stan?"

"Yeah, I remember," Stan said, mentally smacking himself when he remembered he was on the phone and Kyle couldn't see him, let alone read his mind.

"Dude, you sure you okay?" Kyle asked worriedly again. "You really sound out of it today…"

"Yeah, I just…" Stan's eyes roamed about, as if the kitchen held the answer he was looking for. "…woke up… fifteen minutes ago…" Yup. That should do.

"Dude…" Kyle said, nearly whispering. "It's like… eight PM."

"I was just… really tired…" Couldn't Kyle just let that subject go and keep on rambling about that stupid date of his? "So, was she at that community thing?" Stan asked him, deciding that if Kyle forgot about the subject, he'd have to remind him himself.

"Yeah," Kyle's tone of voice changed immediately into a cheerful one. Stan was relieved. "We really hit it off there! She's really intelligent, Stan. We didn't get to talk much, but I was really impressed with her!" Stan's heart wrenched in his chest. "Apparently, she was with me, too, because she asked my number from my mom. I… she's a great girl, Stan, and I really hope this would work out…" something in Kyle's voice when he told him that caused his heart to wrench more painfully. He sounded somewhere between hopeful and desperate, and Stan kicked himself mentally for even _assuming _Kyle had some sort of feelings towards him.

"Uh…that's great, dude. I really hope things would work out for you, too," Stan said, forcing the words out of his mouth in one flow.

"I know they will," Kyle said, and Stan's heart skipped a beat. Or two. "Anyhow, what about you? How are things with Drake going?"

Stan sighed heavily. "Drake and I… we're not… we broke up."

"Really? Why? I thought you really liked him! How long have you two dated for? Three months?"

Stan took a deep breath before releasing it in a second sigh. "Yeah… I did like him, but he, apparently… didn't."

"Oh," Kyle said, and Stan arched an eyebrow. His voice was vacant of any emotion, which kind of betrayed the earlier surprise that was clear in his voice when he heard about the breakup. It was like he… didn't really care. "Well, uh… sorry to hear that. I gotta go and take a shower now, you know, get ready," he said eventually, sheepishly. "Bye Stan." And before the raven haired boy could say anything, the line was cut.

"…Bye…" he said to no one in particular and put his cell phone back on the wooden table.

His eyes returned to stare at the paper saucer, and the corners of his mouth formed a sad smile. He was a fool to even think that Kyle remembered… Besides, why was he so disappointed? It's a good thing that Kyle has a date, that solves his problem. Now he won't have to confront with Kyle about that idiotic agreement. It's a good thing, really; now Kyle will date this girl, and he'll date a new guy and all would be normal and well.

The saucer blurred in front of his eyes suddenly, and he blinked rapidly to try and clear his vision.

His love would stay pure, and Kyle would stay oblivious to his best friend's feelings. That's a good thing.

So then, why was he crying…?

* * *

"Hey dude," Stan said as he entered Kyle's apartment a few days later. They were past the stage of knocking (though, Stan scolded himself, now that Kyle was seeing someone maybe he'd better take precautions… a shiver still ran down his spine whenever he remembered how Kyle walked in on him and Drake once...), and Stan found his best friend sitting on his couch and watching television, a thick blanket covering him and a mug of boiling tea on the coffee table. 

"Hey Stan," Kyle replied hoarsely and smiled weakly, coughing into his hand. "What's up?"

Stan rushed to his side and sat next to him, glancing at the thermometer that lay next to the mug of tea. "I'd say I'm doing better than you…" he answered quietly, preoccupied with the temperature the thermometer was still displaying. "Dude… you're really sick. When did it happen?"

Kyle sighed heavily and shivered. "I don't know, really… the day before yesterday I felt all dizzy and shit, and then yesterday I could barely bring myself to get up from my bed. I took a sick leave from work." He reached to his mug and lifted it from the table, taking a small sip of the flavored water.

"Why didn't you call me then? I would have come and took care of you…" Stan said, reaching out a hand to flatten out the Jew's ruffled hair.

Kyle smiled weakly again. "Jesus, Stan… you're as gay as they can get," Stan immediately took his hand back, turning his head to hide the blush the crept to his cheeks. "I didn't want to worry you," he answered. "And you're busy with work, probably. Sarah came by and brought me some medicine-" Stan cringed "-so I figured I'm set."

"How _was_ your date with her? I didn't get to talk to you since…"

Kyle's eyes became glazed over suddenly, and he grinned. "It was awesome," he replied. "She's such a great girl, you know? She's really smart, and funny, and I felt like I just can talk about _anything_ with her and she wouldn't judge me or think I'm some kind of a freak or anything. And she's hot, too! I'll get you to meet her, sometime…"

Stan's left eye twitched. Really, Kyle can just as well talk about those things with him, too! That's why they were best friends! He doesn't need some… some _girl_!

"When is your next date?" Stan asked, forcing down his spite, noticing Kyle's red face and wondering whether it was from the fever or his tale.

"When I'll get better…" he chucked to himself and took another sip from his beverage. "I wouldn't want her to catch what it is that has me down. It took a lot of arguing on my side to get her to go back home when she dropped by yesterday, reminded me of my mother. Typical Jewish thing maybe…" he brought a hand to his chin, caressing the red bristles that grew there. "I wonder if she's Polish, too…"

Stan smiled. "Aren't you going to kick me out, as well?"

Kyle laughed. "No, no. I want you to catch my illness. Then we can be pitiful and feverish together." Well then, maybe Kyle _did_ still remember he had a best friend…

Stan smacked him slightly on the head, careful to not hit him too hard in his condition. They laughed for a bit, and then silence settled between them, on the one hand comforting and on the other awkward, soothing their nerves yet causing them to feel obliged to say something, anything. Stan glanced at his Jewish friend, noticing his drooping eyelids. "D-do you want to… go back to bed?" he asked slowly, afraid to disturb that silence.

Kyle shook his head. "Nah, I'm cool…" he took the remote and turned the television off, muttering something about a boring soap opera. "Say, Stan," he started, burying himself deeper into the comforter. "When did you break up with Drake?"

Stan scratched his head as he calculated days. "Uh… about…three weeks ago, I think…"

"Three weeks!" Kyle exclaimed, staring at him incredulously, gaping. "And when did you plan telling _me_ about it?!"

Stan glared at him. "Well, I'm sorry! I didn't think my love life was so important I should be telling everyone about it!"

The redhead glared back at him. "What crawled up your ass and died? Who was talking about everyone?!" Kyle asked, trying to raise his voice and failing miserably. "We're best friends, we tell each other things!"

"Oh yeah? Why didn't you tell me about your date with Sarah, then?" Stan countered.

"I did!"

"Yeah, at the day it was planned to take place in!"

"Because we only set it _then_! Why are you so hung about it, anyway?" Kyle asked, arching an eyebrow in suspicion. "Don't tell me you're jealous!"

"Jealous!" Stan nearly screeched. "Why the fuck would I be jealous?!" He got up from the couch. "It's only because we agreed to-" he shut himself up before he finished, paling. No, he couldn't remind Kyle about the agreement. He had resolved not to. _This entire argument is silly_, Stan scolded himself. It's not like he could tell him the reason he kept his breakup secret was because it was from a_different_ reason this time, rather than envy about the relationship Stan shared with Kyle. He looked down at his shoes, biting his lip.

"We agreed to what?" Kyle asked, still glaring. Though, it was not anger that hid behind his eyes this time. "We agreed to what, Stan?!" He stood up from the couch as well, but he couldn't keep himself in a standing position for more than a millisecond and wobbled, his eyes darting around frantically. Stan yelped and caught his heavily breathing friend before he collapsed on the floor. "Ugh, I feel sick…" Kyle managed weakly before shutting his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Stan said quietly and pushed Kyle gently to the couch, yet not leaving him even when he was in the safe confines of the red fabric. "I shouldn't have yelled at you…"

"No, no, don't apologize… I riled you up, it was my fault." Kyle coughed again, his eyes remaining shut, hiding their redness and tiredness behind closed eyelids. Stan lifted his hand hesitantly and stroked the red curls gently, emitting soothing noises. When the coughing attack ceased, Kyle leaned back further into the couch and Stan's hand stopped at his scalp, drawing circles there. His mother used to do it for him when he was sick.

"You okay?" he whispered, afraid to disturb his ill friend that might have fallen asleep.

"Yeah…" Kyle whispered back, leaning into the hand that was on his head and emitting a sigh.

"Do you want me to leave so you can rest?" Stan asked, eyeing the car-keys he threw on the table as he entered.

Instead of replying, Kyle held to Stan's forearm and then leaned sideways, laying his head in Stan's lap. Stan felt like he was burning up, and not because of Kyle's hot face. "K-Kyle?" he stuttered, looking around the room frantically in search for an emergency exit.

"No…" Kyle whispered almost inaudibly, burying his face in the fabric of Stan's jeans. Then he muttered something else, that, to Stan, sounded along the lines of "it's better with you", but Kyle's voice was muffled, so he couldn't be too sure. It might have just as well been "it's just the flu".

Stan repositioned his hand so now it was resting on Kyle's hot cheek and sighed deeply, resolving to stay by his friend's side. After all, he couldn't just leave him like that. Besides, Kyle seemed to think that his best friend was a nice pillow, for he kept snuggling closer and closer to Stan.

And Stan couldn't deny that he liked it.

_To Be Continued…_

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	3. The Restaurant

**Disclaimer:** See previous chapters.

**Author's Note I: **This is for mano3813, 'cuz I just realized her art is awesome, and even though I knew I was going to update this week, seeing her art really motivated me to.

**Author's Note II: **Sorry for spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native tongue.

**Paper Saucer**

Chapter Three: The Restaurant

Stan gazed worriedly at his reflection in the mirror as he fiddled with his button-down cotton shirt. For the umpteenth time he dusted invisible (and nonexistent) specks of dust off of his black shirt, frowning as he kept doing so, feeling as if no matter how many times he repeated this action, the dust would remain. He licked his fingers and used them to "comb" his eyebrows, then ran a hand through his raven hair, flattening it.

One week has passed since Kyle came back to work, and only three more weeks were left until the fateful day (which, if things were going to remain as they were with Kyle and Sarah, would probably not arrive. Stan was still not sure if he liked that fact or not). Kyle called him a day before, saying that he and Sarah were going to go to this restaurant or another (Stan didn't really bother to listen), and that Stan just _had_ to join. "Sarah insists!" he said, and Stan could hear the excitement in his voice and could feel his own heart breaking to million little pieces, for he knew that that excitement had nothing to do with him joining them on their date.

And so, Stanley Marsh found himself in front of the mirror, where he stood for the past thirty minutes or so (he didn't like to be counted within one of those "gay" stereotypes, mind you). He had no idea as to _why_ he was trying to look so perfect. It's not like he needed to impress Kyle, and he didn't see why he _should_ try to impress Sarah. Nevertheless, he kept on standing there and looking at his impeccable reflection until his cell phone emitted a familiar ringtone – Kyle's – and he reached out his hand quickly to answer it. "Hey dude," he said, smiling.

"Hey, Stan," Kyle replied. Stan could hear a female voice in the background and frowned, assuming (and rightly so) that it was Sarah. "We're almost at your building, so come out! We don't want to keep Sarah waiting." he heard a giggle then, and his frown deepened.

"Sure, be right down," he said and hung-up, feeling that "goodbyes" were unnecessary since they would see each other in mere minutes. Stan really didn't want to go with them in the same car, but Kyle, ever the environmentalist, insisted that he will. After all, if they were all going to the same place, it would be better to use one car instead of polluting the air further.

He checked himself one last time in the mirror, dusted his shirt once more, grabbed his wallet and went out. As soon as he opened the door he felt the cold air hit his face (though it was much better than the freezing air of Colorado), and came to the realization that maybe not taking that scarf with him was a bad idea. He soon spotted Kyle's blue Toyota, parked next to the curb, and hurried in that direction, embracing the heat that welcomed him as he sat quickly in the back seat (he didn't even spare a glance in Sarah's direction).

"Hi!" Kyle greeted him and spun his head to look at him as best as he could from his position. Then his smile widened. "Stan," he began, and Stan could already feel a headache forming. He knew what came next. "This is Sarah. Sarah, this is Stan, my best friend."

"Hi, Stan!" she said, her voice high-pitched and grating just as Stan had imagined it. "It's sooo great to finally being able to meet you! Kyle here, he talks about you so much I sometimes feel like _you two_ are _dating_!" she laughed and Kyle joined her.

Stan only managed a pained smile, his eyebrow twitching at the notion. _Oh, how I wish we were…_ "It's great meeting you, too," he replied, the action of separating his teeth in order to form the words suddenly becoming much harder than it was supposed to be. "Kyle made sure to mention you from a time to time," he said, smirking and hoping that she didn't catch on his sarcasm. She giggled, and it sounded oh so much more annoying than it did over the phone.

"Stan…" Kyle said, still looking at him with a wide smile, but Stan did not miss the reprimand in his voice nor the ever so slight twitch of his eyebrow and turned his head away in shame. Apparently, Kyle _did_ notice his cynicism. Not an additional word was uttered and Kyle returned his gaze to the road ahead, starting the car and commencing the drive to the restaurant downtown.

Stan sighed heavily and it went unheard to the conversing couple in the front seat. He should have known better than to come with them – of course he would be the third wheel! Still, he told himself that perhaps he shouldn't judge Sarah so harshly. Her voice was not so bad, really, plus, he did manage to hear bits of their conversation over the blaring music that made his ears hurt, and he realized she wasn't talking about the minor things he expected her to.

About twenty minutes later they arrived at the restaurant, and in its foyer was when Stan finally got a good look at Sarah, and it pained him to admit that she didn't look so bad at all: she was a bit shorter than him and Kyle, her black hair reached to her upper back and her brown eyes shimmered as the dim light danced within their depths. Her figure was well formed, "full in the right places", as they say. When she locked arms with Kyle, however, Stan noticed that although she was pretty, her nose might be a bit too big…

Their table was in the corner, right next to the big window that if you gazed outside of you would be able to see a small fish-pond and a small, wooden bridge above it. As Stan was half listening to the conversation in front of him, he wished he were on that bridge right now instead of inside the restaurant with his best friend and his date.

"So Stan," Kyle began, awakening him from his reverie. "Tell Sarah where you're working," he said, and the occasional rise of an angry eyebrow told Stan he really shouldn't argue with him.

He sighed, folding his hands in front of him on the white tablecloth. "I work for the local newspaper," he said coldly.

"Really?" she exclaimed, obviously excited. "What are you reporting about?"

Stan chose to remain silent, and when Kyle realized he wasn't going to talk, he did so instead of him: "oh, he isn't a reporter. Right Stan?" he urged, glaring.

Stan tried to glare back, but there were no competitors for Kyle's glare. "No," he said quietly, and noticed Sarah leaning over the table, probably in order to hear him better. "I'm... writing for them. Short stories," he said, louder this time.

She smiled widely, displaying her perfect row of white teeth and causing Stan a dull ache in the chest as he realized he could never amount to her beauty. "That's _awesome_! I've always liked reading the stories on local newspapers! Kyle, you should bring one some time for me to see!"

"Sure," he said, sipping from his wine.

"What are you writing about?" she asked, and Stan wished that the conversation would have remained only between her and the Jew.

"You know," he said with a slight wave of his hand. "Just… short stories. Let Kyle show them to you."

"Stan…" Kyle reprimanded him again, unpleased. Sarah still seemed oblivious, that wide smile of her ever present on her lips, but Stan felt that she knew more than she was letting on. After all, if she were stupid, Kyle would have never dated her.

He sighed again. "Well," he said, and smirked as he thought of the perfect reply. "They _are_ short stories. If I told you what they're about I'll spoil them for you. Let Kyle show them to you," he repeated his previous statement, knowing that this time Kyle wouldn't have anything to say in return.

He knew that Kyle was not pleased, however, when the redhead turned to his girlfriend again and talked only with her for the remainder of the evening (and even though Stan wished for it to happen before, he had to admit it was somewhat unpleasant), never once turning to Stan again. But Stan, with nothing better to do (other than eat and listen to them), was able to catch Sarah's eyes sometimes darting to glance at him briefly, and the small, mischievous smile that spread on her lips then. It unnerved him greatly.

* * *

"It was a great meal, hon," Sarah said and pecked the Jewish male on his cheek, causing him to smile and blush lightly and Stan's eyebrow to twitch with annoyance yet again. "Thank you for bringing me here!" 

"You're welcomed," he replied, wiping the sides of his mouth with a napkin. _So cute!_ Stan noted ruefully.

"Yeah, it was really tasty," Stan said, but received neither a reply nor a mere glance in his direction from Kyle. "You know what I really feel like drinking right now after this steak?" he asked, trying to make a small-talk and appease his friend.

"What?" Sarah asked.

Stan didn't want to giver _her_ his answer, but figured it would be too rude no to, and besides, Kyle was mad at him enough as it was. "A beer," he said.

She clasped her hands together and batted her eyelashes happily. "Oh, I love beer! You know what is my favorite kind?" she asked, and Stan really didn't care for her likings or disliking, but figured that he would receive an answer, whether he asked for it or not. "Stella Artois!" she finished, and the sound of a glass shattering resounded throughout the restaurant, causing a few heads to turn their way.

Both of them looked worriedly at a somewhat pale and shaking Kyle, his hand still halfway in the air. "Kyle!" Sarah was the first to exclaim, bringing her hand to his back. "Are you okay? You look a bit pale!" then she paled herself. "You aren't sick again, are you?"

"N-no, no…" he said, though it sounded a bit shaken and forced. "I'm… fine…" only then did he spare a glance at Stan, and the raven-haired man suddenly found himself glued to the spot, paralyzed and unable to move as Kyle's eye bore momentarily into his. An emotion flickered across them for a brief moment, like a small fire on a stove that flares only for a second just as the gas is about to run out: fear.

But just as soon as it appeared it was gone, replaced by embarrassment as Kyle tried to calm his girlfriend down. They departed soon afterwards.

Only after he exited Kyle's car when they dropped him off at his building did it dawn into him, and his breath was caught momentarily in his throat.

The saucer, on which the agreement was written, was a Stella Artois one.

_To Be Continued…_

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	4. The Ex

**Disclaimer:**See chapter one.

**Author's Note I: **Thanks for all the reviews! Feel free to deliver more :)

**Author's Note II: **This chapter is for eishi, 'cuz she's an awesome writer and you should all go read her work!

**Author's Note III: **Sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes, and for incorrect usage of words. English is not my native tongue.

**Paper Saucer**

Chapter Four: The Ex

Stan lay in his bed, his arms supporting his head as he stared blankly at the ceiling above. He's been in this position for hours now, ever since Kyle and Sarah dropped him off. He did not even bother to brush his teeth, change his clothes or check if he has anything left to do for the next day. He simply untied his shoes, did not bother to take them off and fell onto his bed, feeling exhausted. This exhaustion, though, probably was not a reason enough for him to fall asleep. Thoughts ran wild through his mind, back and forth, like a ping-pong ball which he followed with his eyes until he was too dizzy, and even_then_ sleep refused to take him to its peaceful realms.

Kyle remembers. He didn't know whether he should feel exhilarated about it or saddened. Kyle has Sarah. If Kyle indeed remembers the agreement then obviously he has no interest in his best friend, for if he had, he would have waited that one month. Stan's head begun to ache and he groaned miserably.

_It may be a mistake_, he told himself. Maybe Kyle dropped the glass because he couldn't hold it, because his hand was too tired or he lost his focus for a minute. That could be the reason, he decided. But, he noted, this would also mean that Kyle wasn't completely over his illness. That was not a good thing.

And yet, Stan preferred his latter conclusion.

He turned his head to the left, gazing at his bottom drawer were the Stella Artois saucer-agreement was hidden (for reasons he did not know himself) beneath a stack of papers, which were related to nothing, really. He sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

_I'll wait._

The words entered his mind without permission and Stan's eyes went wide at the sudden memory. Those were the last words he heard from Drake when they broke up not too long ago. Drake pecked him on the cheek then, smiled hesitantly and left him with his wishful thinking that was supported by a damned paper saucer.

The saucer that has him now awake at 6A.M

The saucer that had _Sarah's_ favorite beer's name written all over it in big, white letters.

The saucer that caused his breakup with Drake…

* * *

He met Drake at a local gay bar about four months ago. He went there after Kyle's endless bugging caused him to want to change his number whenever his best friend's name appeared on the screen. 

"Come on, Stan!" he said during their last phone conversation about the matter. "It wouldn't be so bad!"

"Damn it, Kyle, why should I go there alone?" Stan argued back, his fingers tightening their hold on the device.

"Because_ then_ you'll be an even easier small-talk target! It's ingenious, dude!" Kyle argued back, not that Stan expected him to do otherwise.

"Well then, what about you? Why should I go and try to get a date by myself? You're just as single as I am!"

"You don't want me to go to a _gay bar_, do you? Trust me, Stan, I can manage."

"Well, so can I!" Stan replied, his frustrations growing as he realized he was fighting against a lost cause; Kyle will obviously get his way.

"Of course you can. That's why every date you went to up until now was a complete failure!"

"Well then, what makes you think it won't repeat itself this time?" he asked in desperation, trying to make Kyle see his way, though he knew it would not work.

"Because it _won't_. Just go!" and then, just like that, he hung up on him. Of course Stan could just ignore it, but he knew he'll never hear the end of it if he didn't do as he was asked, or rather _commanded_. So he took a shower, put on a nice shirt and his new pair of denim and went out, sulking to himself. He really didn't care he won't attract anyone this way.

The lighting in the bar was dimmed and as he entered the horrid smell of cigarette smoke entered his nostrils and caused him to cough nastily into his palm. He hated this place, he really did. He only went there once after he moved into this city, and he was starting to reconsider his recent decision and to contemplate whether he should just go to Kyle's place and beg him to leave it be, to tell him that his knight in shiny armor would just appear and that there was no need to look for him in stinky gay bars.

_I'm already here, might as well try and make something out of it_, he thought and took his seat at the counter. He was about to signal his presence to the bar tender and order a shot that would have him dead, when a conversation to his right caught his attention. He was sitting next to a light brown haired man, dressed in a suit with a loosened tie. Stan figured he probably went there straight from his office. He was talking on his cell-phone, smiling and waving his hand nonchalantly.

"Yeah, I've been here for an hour now," he said loudly in order to be heard over the loud music. "Nothing interesting," he concluded, laughed, and took a long gulp of his Heineken (or so said the glass).

"What can I get for you, sir?" the bartender asked him, which made him to turn and face him.

"Uhh…" Stan said, returning his gaze to his right shortly after. "I'll just have what he's having," he said, nodding towards the man. The bartender looked, nodded, and left to pour it for him.

"Told ya it'll do no good to come here alone, you should have come with me!" the man continued into his phone, laughing. "So what if you're a girl? We would have had a blast here!"

His beer was served then, and Stan had to turn his head away again in order to pay. He took a sip, staring at the bottles stacked on the shelves as he strained his ears to listen to the remainder of the conversation. When he heard nothing he was forced to turn to look again, and at that moment the man chose to stare right back at him.

Stan choked on his drink and coughed. He could swear he heard the man snickering. When the coughing attack was over he returned his gaze to the shelves, bur he felt the other's eyes still on him and was forced to look away from the bottles. "Uh…" he said, gripping his glass tightly as if it would save him from making a fool out of himself. _He's probably just staring because he noticed me eavesdropping. _"So… you're… here alone too?"

The man shook his head, laughing lightly. "Yeah," was the reply.

Stan smiled. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

The man threw his head back and laughed loudly, causing Stan to think that he had his fare share of alcohol for the night. "Totally."

They stared at each other for awhile more, and then the man extended his hand and smiled. "I'm Drake," he said, and it was then that Stan noticed that he had green eyes. _Kyle's are prett-_

"I'm Stan," he said quickly before he could finish the thought, shaking his hand firmly with Drake's. The smiles were mutual.

One thing led to the other, and two days later they went on their first date. Drake was a couple of years older than Stan. He was an MIT graduate (so was Kyle!) and worked at some hi-tech company. He possessed a great sense of humor and was a very interesting person in general. He was about an inch taller than Stan and much more experienced in the field of dating.

He also proved to be very experienced between the sheets.

"Told you so," was Kyle's congratulation when he first heard the news of Stan's new boyfriend, which came at a very inconvenient time. Stan, though, didn't pay any heed to his comment. He was up on cloud nine, a feeling he had not had in a long time. Drake's kisses to his shoulders made him feel numb and he moaned quietly. Kyle apparently heard it. "Stan, dude, if you're in the middle of something I really don't want to interrupt."

"Yeah," Stan said and didn't even bother to deliver a proper goodbye before he pressed the "End" button and gave in completely to his boyfriend's moves.

"Who was that?" Drake asked huskily, reaching to unbuckle Stan's belt.

"Kyle," he replied, already half panting. "He made me go to the bar that time."

"That best friend of yours?"

"Ugh… yeah…" Drake silenced any further conversation with a deep kiss, which Stan received more then happily, even more so when in his mind, even if he didn't pay it much attention, it was his best friend that was kissing him.

Things continued somewhat wonderfully like that for about three months. The day of their breakup started as usual: they met for dinner, had a nice chat, and went up to Stan's apartment for dessert. Within seconds they were naked and on Stan's bed, kissing and touching and panting.

"Where are your condoms?" Drake whispered into his ear, and Stan half moaned that he kept them in his drawer. Too bad he forgot to mention which. So after Stan lay under Drake - eyes closed with anticipation and hands gripping the sheets beneath him – for about two minutes, he cracked one eye open to see what was wrong.

"What's taking you so long?" he asked, leaving the sheet in favor of Drake's bare back.

"Stan…" Drake began, and just like that. With that pressing tone of his voice, the mood was ruined. "Who's Kyle?"

Stan blinked in puzzlement. "My best friend, you know that. What does that has to do with anything?" Drake remained in the same position for a few moments before he lifted the saucer for Stan to see.

The bottom drawer.

Stan averted his gaze, ashamed. Drake sighed heavily and got up from the bed. "I think I deserve an explanation."

Fully dressed and sitting at his kitchen table, Stan explained the situation; how he held unclear feelings for his best friend, how his best friend made up this agreement, how he signed it, how… whenever Drake kissed him in his mind he held an image of red curls and greener eyes.

"So… I see," Drake said, holding his mug with two hands. He sighed. "If… if you confront him about it… and it won't… I'll wait." He concluded, smiled hesitantly and kissed him lightly on his cheek. Then he left.

All Stan could do was cry.

* * *

The phone shook him out of his reverie and he glanced at the caller I.D. 

Kyle.

Automatically he reached for his cell phone and was about to press "Send", when suddenly he remembered what happened a few hours before. He wasn't sure he wanted to answer anymore…

He gulped. "Hello?" he asked with a voice that sounded to high-pitched to be his own.

"Stan?" came Kyle's reply. "I'm sorry I'm calling this early, but… there's something I have to ask you." Stan paled.

_Here it comes…_

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	5. The Truth

**Disclaimer: **South Park isn't mine, I'm writing this story just for fun and am not making any profit out of it, yadda yadda…

**Author's Note I:** Sorry for the long wait! Blame my lack of time… get used to it, though. I don't know when the next (and probably last) chapter will be up.

**Author's Note II: **Sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes (I think there are tons in this chapter!), English is not my native tongue.

**Paper Saucer**

Chapter Five: The Truth

Stan desperately tried to calm the horrible shakings of his hand, but did not manage to. He took a deep breath and it seemed to calm him down somewhat. "Shoot," he said into his cell phone, smiling momentarily at his success in sounding normal.

"Well…" there was a certain hesitation in his best friend's voice, and Stan glanced at the bottom drawer again, positive that Kyle called to inform him that since he was so hung up about the whole thing, then Sarah should probably be dumped and then they would be able to start their new lives together.

…That, or he's calling to inform him that their friendship is over. Stan found the latter to be much more likely.

"I was talking to Sarah," Kyle started, causing confusion on Stan's side. "She was really impressed with you, Stan. She said she wants me to bring you to more of our dates. I agreed, of course." Stan found it very puzzling. Why would Sarah want to meet with him more often? Hadn't she noticed his cold attitude?. "But," Kyle continued, "then I remembered you didn't take much liking to her."

Stan waited, thinking that Kyle had something more to say, and when no such continuation came, he realized he should probably provide some sort of an answer. "It's not that I… don't… like her. I don't know her yet!" he said. "You know me, I just need some time to get used to new people."

"Don't give me that shit, Stan." Kyle sounded angry. "You've never had a problem with people, nor with my previous girlfriends. What's the deal?"

Stan cocked one eyebrow. What's the deal? Doesn't he know already? "Well… I…. uh…" _Quick! An excuse!_ "You know, she's all girly and stuff."

Silence. "Uh… since when is being _girly_ bad for a girl?" Oh, he just _had_ to ask that, didn't he?

"Well, there's girly, and there's… _girly_." Stan replied, feeling so stupid at that moment that he wondered how nobody killed him yet.

On the other end of the line, Kyle sighed heavily. "Look, Stan, I don't know what your fucking problem is, but if you don't behave nicely the next time we meet, then…" Stan wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest, and fortunately for him, it never came. "Just-" another sigh. "Just… meet us at The Greenhouse on Friday at seven, okay? And leave your foul mood at home." And without delivering any proper goodbyes, Kyle hung up on him.

Stan stared blankly at the screen that displayed the duration of their conversation, unsure of what to think. Kyle was certainly angry with him, that much he could tell (even with his stupidity!), but on the other hand… he sounded as if he _made_ himself being angry, because if he wasn't, that meant he preferred Stan over his precious Sarah. And he most certainly couldn't have that, now could he?

If, of course, he remembered anything of their agreement at all. Stan wasn't sure he had the answer to that.

* * *

Friday came much too quickly for Stan's liking, and just like the previous time he went with Kyle and his _lovely_ (it should be mentioned he thought that with a frown) girlfriend to a restaurant, he found himself once again fiddling endlessly with his nicest shirt in front of the mirror in his bedroom. He kept on folding and unfolding the sleeves of the button-down shirt, wondering whether he looked cooler when they showed from under his brown coat. 

Stan couldn't help but feeling apprehensive. Something about the whole thing seemed very suspicious to him. After all, there is no need for a third wheel. Why would Sarah make him go through that? He thought that perhaps she did notice his malice and wanted to punish him, and what's a better way to punish a gay guy than make him watch his best friend, on whom he was crushing, and his girlfriend make out in front of his face?

Stan sighed heavily to himself and let go of his sleeves, a sad look penetrating his blue eyes. Nearly two weeks were left till the fateful day, and with each day that passed, he found himself often thinking of throwing away that damn saucer and forget about it. Yet, with each passing day, he found himself wanting his best friend more and more. Every time he thought about him with Sarah, Stan found himself wishing that it would have been _him_ in Kyle's arms instead of that stupid girl, that it would have been him that Kyle pecked on the cheek, that it would have been for _his_sake that Kyle yelled at some other friend of theirs.

He knew that he was falling for him. Now that he thought about it, it was obvious since the very moment Kyle fainted in his arms after declaring he'd rather stay single for three years. Stan honestly didn't know why Kyle decided to have a steady relationship _now_.

The image of himself in the mirror was now looking back angrily at him, and Stan opted against further arguing with his looks and went out of his apartment and into the cold night. Upon entering his car, he immediately turned on the heating and commenced the drive to the designated place.

Kyle and Sarah were already there when he arrived, Sarah waving way too cheerfully at him as he entered through the double-doors and Kyle, who was in the middle of a conversation with her, looked up and frowned at him. Stan doubted it had to do with his appearance.

"Hi," Stan greeted dryly as he sat down in the only vacant sat at the round table. Kyle greeted him just as dryly, and Sarah immediately went into telling him how glad she was to see him again.

"Kyle showed me one of your stories!" she said, Kyle blushing slightly next to her. "I loved it!"

"Which one?" Stan asked, intrigued by Kyle's reaction to her comment.

"What was it again… oh! Crave!" She said, causing Kyle's blush to deepen and Stan's eyes to widen.

"You… you've read it?" Stan asked in a whisper, his eyes landing on Kyle.

"Of course! I just told you I did!" it was Sarah who answered, of course, being that Kyle was too preoccupied in avoiding meeting Stan's gaze. "When did you write it?" she asked.

"About a month ago, I think…" he replied, keeping his eyes locked on his best friend, who was fidgeting nervously in his seat. Crave was some stupid story about a guy craving his best (girl) friend, who was married. It was unrequited, of course. He wrote it when the Saucer Ordeal became much more relevant than it ever was. He didn't know that Kyle read it; Kyle barely read anything he wrote, unless Stan specifically asked him to. At least, that's what Kyle told him.

"Oh, I loved it so much!" she said excitedly, taking a small sip of her water. "The character of the guy was so believable! When he confesses to her… I nearly cried! It was a great story, Stan! I told all my friends to read it!"

Stan nodded slowly, registering the information. "What did you think of it, Kyle?" he asked, knowing that Kyle wouldn't be able to avoid his question.

"It was…" Kyle started, whispering, and before he could continue the waitress came and asked for their orders.

Sarah ordered a salad (Stan scoffed at that), Kyle ordered a fettuccini, and he himself decided to order spaghetti with tomato sauce (_that's what you get for a vegetarian restaurant_, he thought). After the waitress left Sarah continued talking with him, while Kyle mainly looked at the tablecloth. When the issue of his stories came up once more, Stan was about to ask Kyle what he thought of Crave again, but before he could finish his question Kyle rose to his feet and declared he was going to the bathroom.

Sarah followed him with her eyes, and when he disappeared behind a corner she turned to Stan again, the widest smile on her lips. "So Stan," she begun, playing with a strand of her black hair. "You and Kyle have been friends for long?"

"Oh yeah," Stan answered, suddenly feeling as if he was talking to a judge. "Ever since I can remember." _And now you had to ruin it_, he added mentally to himself.

"So do you think…" she leaned closer to him. "That he'll be mad if I did this?"

"Did wha-" Stan was brutally cut off as she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards her, kissing him. He was so shocked it took him awhile before he pushed her off, rubbing his lips with his right sleeve, not sure whether he was trying to get rid of the taste or that fact that a _girl_, Kyle's girlfriend, no less, kissed him.

"Are you_fucking_ crazy?!" he cried, causing all heads to turn to their direction. He lifted his gaze momentarily to check of Kyle was watching, and when he failed to spot him, he resumed glaring at the girl seated in front of him. "What the _hell_ was that for?"

"Come on, hon," she said, taking a hold of his hand, which he withdrew immediately as if burned, which caused her to frown. "We both know you can't refuse."

"What…. what… what?" obviously, he was at a loss of words. "You… Kyle…"

She waved her hand and scoffed. "Kyle is too much of a nerd. It's _you_ that I've wanted all along," she said.

Was she hallucinating, Stan wondered. "You've met me only once!" he said.

She shook her head. "We shared a course in college… don't you remember?" she asked. Stan narrowed his eyes, trying with all his might to recall a memory with this crude female, but failing. He shook his head. She sighed. "Figured as much," she said.

"You used Kyle," he said, whispering, realizing the truth. "He really liked you and you used him!" again, all heads turned to them.

"So? All is fair in love and war," she replied.

"_But I don't love you!_" he screamed, causing the waiters to look, as well. He was shaking with rage and embarrassment, glancing up every few moments to see if Kyle came out yet.

"I'm sure that could be arranged," she said, smiling mischievously, but before she could pull him into an unwanted kiss yet again, Stan rose to his feet and held his arms in front of his body in order to stop her, shaking his head, a quivering smile spread on his lips.

"Nononononono," he said, withdrawing. "This isn't happening, this isn't happening…" she looked up at him, dumbfounded.

"Is something wrong?" she asked stupidly.

"I something_wrong_?!" he repeated, customers whispering among themselves all around him. "You're my best friend's girl and you kissed me! Of course something's wrong!"

"I'm sure Kyle would understand, he's a smart guy." Stan really wanted to slap her.

"Look, Sarah," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I… this-" just then, Kyle reappeared from behind the corner, still looking somewhat awkward. Stan immediately rushed to him, grabbed his arm, and dragged him outside to the parking lot, ignoring his and Sarah's calls of protest.

"Stan, what the hell?" Kyle asked when they stood outside, the air cooling their skin, yet Stan felt as if nothing could chill him now. "I thought I warned you."

"Dude," Stan started, breathing irregularly, unsure of how to approach the subject. "Your girlfriend… dude, she's fucking crazy!"

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Now, Stan-"

"Seriously, dude!" he glanced around worriedly. "Have you ever… I dunno, told her I was _gay_?"

Kyle looked thoughtful for a second. "I don't think it ever came up, why? I'm sure she didn't say anything offensive, so don't go around telling me that-"

Stan shook his head vigorously, cutting Kyle off mid-sentence. "She fucking _kissed_ me, Kyle!" he finally said, breathing heavily.

He expected Kyle's eyes to widen, his face to pale, maybe, expected him to throw a tantrum... Stan certainly didn't expect Kyle to glare at _him_!"Kyle?" he asked timidly.

"You're such an_asshole_, Stan!" Kyle screamed, and Stan half expected him to slap him. "I know you don't like her, but to spread _lies_? You've gone too far this time!"

"But I'm telling the truth!" Stan tried to argue, but Kyle heard none of it.

"_Bullshit_!" Kyle hollered, causing Stan to recoil."Just because," he started again, his voice unsteady and his eyes burning with an emotion Stan failed to recognize. "You and I signed some stupid agreement is no reason for you to try and make me-" he stopped, throwing his palm to his mouth, fearing to spill anything further.

Stan paled. He was positive that nothing could shock him after that surprise kiss. Apparently, he was wrong. "Y… you remembered?" he breathed, suddenly feeling dizzy.

Kyle merely stared back, just as pale, his hand still on his mouth and the emotion that burned within his eyes earlier slowly changing into something else, the emotion that Stan witnessed in him just a few days ago: fear.

_To Be Continued…_

**Author's Note III: **Please review! Reviews make me happy!


	6. The Closure

**Disclaimer:**South Park is not mine, I wrote this story just for the fun of it, and am not making any profit out of it.

**Author's Note I: **There. I managed to finish it before my semester ends. Now I can devote all of my free time (lolz!) to my other fic. I don't know how pleased I am with the ending, but… it's a stupid story to begin with, so… meh. I still can't believe I actually finsihed a chaptered story!

**Author's Note II: **Sorry for spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native tongue.

**Paper Saucer**

Chapter Six: The Closure

Stan was not able to tell if it was the low temperature that made him numb, or the information he had just been given. He stared at his redhead best friend, his eyes as wide as the saucer he signed on. The world spun around him as if he was drunk, and he quickly leaned on a red car that was parked behind him. The slight movement caused the old vehicle's alarm to go off, but Stan heard none if it as he kept on staring ahead.

Kyle looked just as shocked, with his pale face and the hand that refused to leave his mouth. He stared back at Stan, yet it was obvious that he didn't _see_ him. 

_Some stupid agreement._ Those words repeated over and over again in Stan's mind, swirling in his head as the scenery that spun around him. Obviously, Kyle had no interest in him. Kyle had no interest in him, and now he probably knew it was not the same case with Stan. Kyle now knew that Stan liked him. 

He ruined everything.

The alarm stopped, only to be replaced by the sound of high-heels hitting concrete. Neither of them turned to look, though. "Don't hit him!" Sarah yelled as she neared them, probably misled by the scene in front of her. "He didn't do anything wrong!" she cried as she grabbed Kyle by his shoulders. 

Kyle blinked at the touch, suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings. "Sarah…" he whispered. 

"Don't hit him, Kyle!" she said again, tears springing to her eyes. "Whatever he said, he was probably speaking the truth."

Kyle gaped at her, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to grasp what he had just been told by the woman, who he thought liked him. "You kissed him?" he asked, his tone flat.

She nodded. "I'm so sorry, Kyle," she said. "I… Stan and I took a course together in college. I always had a thing for him, and then you mentioned his name-"

"Idiot!" Kyle yelled, cutting her off mid-sentence. "You girls are supposed to see those things from miles away, don't you?" she raised her eyebrow and bewilderment. "Stan is _gay_, Sarah! There is no way he could like you!" Kyle finished.

Sarah opened her mouth to say something, but closed it promptly after, reconsidering her words. She pinched her chin as she mulled over what Kyle told her. "Is that true, Stan?" she asked, now turning to him.

Stan, now realizing he's being spoken to, shook his head in order to clear his mind. "I… wha?" he asked.

"Is it true that you're gay?" she repeated.

"I… yeah, I'm gay," he replied, looking at Kyle in puzzlement, as he wasn't listening to the conversation that had taken place before him just seconds ago. 

"Why didn't you tell me?!" she asked, blushing with embarrassment. "God, I made a fool out of myself!"

Stan really had no idea what to tell her, as he realized that whatever it will be, it will probably result in him slapping her. He turned his gaze to Kyle, who looked like he was debating the same thing.

"I'm glad that he didn't," Kyle said. "You and I are through."

Had Stan not been so worried, he would have probably been gloating. That is what he wished for ever since he heard about her, and now that they finally broke up, his hopes had been crushed. 

"I'm sorry," she said. She was about to give Kyle a last hug, but he held his hand in front of his chest, signaling for her to stop. She sighed heavily, turned around, and left them alone once more.

The alarm went off again.

Kyle looked at him sadly, trying to tell him something with his eyes. Stan, though, was not able to decipher what he meant. "Kyle, wha-" he tried to say, but just as Kyle stopped Sarah from hugging him, he had stopped Stan from trying to understand him. And just like Sarah had done, he turned around and jogged towards his car.

Stan was left standing in the parking lot by himself with only his fears, worries and that annoyingly loud alarm to keep him company. He sighed heavily and walked towards his car, dejected. He took his keys out of his back pocket and unlocked the vehicle, sat in the driver's seat and glared at the steering wheel. Punching it and causing a shrill horn to sound through the lot, he started the car and drove off.

When he was about to take the right turn that would lead him to the road that would take him to his street, he stopped the car abruptly. Stupid Kyle acted like a female, just going off instead of dealing with the current problem! Well, Stan wasn't about to let him get away with it! He may have just ruined their friendship, he may be doing a grave mistake, but he needed to know what Kyle thought about the agreement. He could not allow him to avoid the subject and leave him in the blue!

And so, he turned around and drove off in the direction of Kyle's apartment.

He knocked once. He knocked twice. No answer. He pulled down the handle and was half-surprised to find the door open. He peeked inside. "Kyle?" he called timidly. The living room was dark, the TV providing the only dim illumination as blue and red colors bounced off the walls. Stan entered and closed the door behind him. "Kyle, are you in here, dude?" a grunt. Stan smiled slightly.

He approached the couch and spotted Kyle, sitting as if he was sick, with the blanket wrapped around him and a mug of tea on the table in front of him, staring at television, which at the moment was set on CNN. Stan frowned. "Dude, why are you watching this shit?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. Kyle merely grunted in reply and Stan plopped down next to him.

They sat in silence, both of their gazes turned to the television as reporters droned about meaningless news. Stan fidgeted in his seat, searching for words, but coming up with none. He sighed. "Kyle, we… I think we need to talk…."

Kyle grunted yet again. "What about?" he asked.

"About…" Stan turned his gaze to look at him. "The agreement." Kyle sighed. "I thought you didn't remember."

Kyle turned the television set off and turned to look at his best friend, who sat next to him. "I didn't, really…" he replied, and as Stan frowned, he elaborated: "You know that Joe's closed down about three years ago, right?" Stan nodded. "So one day, about three months ago, I met Joe at the bus, and he asked me if you and I married yet. I didn't understand what he meant, so he told me about the saucer thing. I…" he stopped to collect his thoughts. "I remembered… various things which I wasn't able to connect, and then, when he mentioned it… suddenly it all fitted together."

"Why didn't you tell me then?" and upset Stan asked, voice wavering even more. 

"I…!" Kyle held his head, hiding his face from the raven-haired man. He shook it fiercely, as if trying to clear it. "I was… I was scared, Stan! I didn't know what I wanted… I didn't know if you remembered, even!" Stan looked at his distraught friend, finding himself at a loss of words. He brought his hand to caress his back slowly, wondering if it was the right thing to do. 

"Even if I didn't remember, you know I wouldn't have minded," Stan said. "We're best friends…"

Kyle removed his hands from his face, glaring at Stan, who was surprised to see moisture in his eyes. "But can we be more than that, Stan?" Kyle asked, voice quivering. "Can we be more?" Stan stared, dumbfounded. 

"You know…" Kyle continued, whispering and looking away. "The thoughts of the sober are the words of the drunk. I've been thinking about that ever since Joe reminded me about the whole ordeal. You were seeing Drake then, and I didn't want to bring it up. I figured that you didn't remember, and if you did, then you were obviously avoiding it." He was playing with his hands, and Stan smiled at the notion that he and Kyle were apparently very much alike. 

"You know," Stan said, his hands now stoking the red curls on Kyle's head. "I thought the same thing when you started seeing Sarah." Kyle stared at him, surprised. 

"I only started seeing her because I thought you didn't remember," he replied. "That's why… that's why I was kind of mad when I found out you broke up with Drake without telling me. I couldn't just dump her then! But then… then you gave me all kinds of clues… like hating Sarah, or that story you wrote!" Stan laughed. "I only read it out of boredom… but… it was _us_, wasn't it?"

"Kind of," Stan said.

"Yeah, so… I realized that you probably remembered. But I didn't know if it was a good idea to… you know… to be more than best friends."

Stan sighed heavily, stopping in mid-stroking. "You know," he started. "To tell you the truth, I wanted to throw it away, but always forgot to do so. I decided to keep it when I realized that… I've always loved you. So I said to myself, why not? But I didn't know what _you'd_ think of it." He chuckled then. "That's why Drake and I broke up, too. He saw that stupid saucer…" Kyle chuckled, as well. Then Stan realized something he missed, and his eyes widened. "Thoughts of the sober… wait, you… you've been feeling something, too?" he asked.

Kyle shook his head slowly. "I was… I dunno if _feeling_, per se, but… there _was _something. But I still… I still don't know if… being together is a good idea."

Stan's hand moved to caress Kyle's cheek, feeling euphoric, almost. "Kyle," he whispered, inching closer. "You and I… we've been best friends for about twenty years, haven't we?" he asked, voicing his current train of thought. Kyle nodded, and Stan inched closer. "We've been through everything together, haven't we?" Kyle nodded again. "We've always, in a certain sense, dated each other, haven't we?" Kyle seemed to ponder it for a second, and then nodded again. "So," he was now mere inches from Kyle's face. "What makes you think it won't work?"

"Well-" Kyle started, but Stan already figured that even thought he immensely disliked Sarah, he could still learn a few things from her, and silenced Kyle with a kiss to his lips. He was happy to note that a few seconds later the Jewish male returned it. 

When he pulled away, his heart sunk as he noticed the tears that streamed down Kyle's face. "Kyle…" he breathed, "Why are you crying?" 

Kyle shook his head, looking at Stan with a huge smile, sniffling. "I know it sounds horribly gay, but I'm really… really happy right now." Stan smiled back and wrapped his arms around his best (boy)friend tightly, refusing to let go as Kyle sobbed in relief on his shoulder.

_The End!_

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**Author's Note III: **There it is! The stupidest ending ever! You guys, I'm sorry if it sucked :(

Still, hope you enjoyed your reading, and please, leave a review! 


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